Not Your Fault
by Terry Vegas
Summary: In a moment of anger, John blames Sam for his mother's death. This is how Dean deals with the aftermath, and reflects upon his relationship with his little brother. Wee!chesters, Sam 13 Dean 18. Gen.


The first thing I noticed when I returned to the motel room was an eerie lack of sound. When I left, Sam and Dad had been at it again- screaming their heads off at each other about god knows what- though their general topic of discussion has been pretty consistent these days. At thirteen years old, my little brother had gotten it into his head that he was going to leave the family business, go to college, and pursue a "normal" life. And while I wanted that for him more than anything, I knew that it just wasn't possible. Who would be there to watch out for him if I wasn't around?

Cocking my gun, I slowly unlocked the door and silently entered, keeping a defensive stance. At first, the room appeared empty, neat- just as I had left it. On high alert, I heard a pitiful sound coming from the bathroom, a whimper that tugged on my heartstrings and made me lower my weapon.

"Sammy?"

I lightly rapped my knuckles on the bathroom door, pressing my ear up against it. I heard a small sniffle, a light scuffling of worn-out sneakers on dirty tile, and the door opened a crack to show my little brother's tear-stained face.

He looked down, and a bright crimson color rose to his cheeks. He wiped his face with his sleeve, in a futile attempt to hide the fact that he had been crying- alone, on the floor of a grimy motel bathroom.

"D-d-dean?" he managed to stutter, before looking back down at his shoes again, "I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd be home so soon. I didn't mean for you to see me like that. Please don't be mad-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, Sammy," I lifted his chin and forced him to look me in the eyes, "what happened when I was gone?"

Sam's expressive hazel eyes filled with tears, and I felt an aggressive protectiveness rise to the surface. Whoever had hurt my little brother this much was going to be on the receiving end of my rage. Sam took a deep, shaky breath and managed to keep his tears in check.

"Dad and I were fighting," he began hesitantly, looking at me as if to search for a disapproval that he expected. I purposely softened my eyes, silently encouraging him to continue.

"He told me it's my fault mom's dead," Sam was barely able to gasp out that last part before he crumbled completely. Any composure that he had faked for my sake, for wanting to appear brave to his big brother, completely vanished. In that moment, I didn't see a rebellious fourteen-year-old, but a little boy with so much potential that he had been forced to restrain. I saw the amazingly intelligent little boy that I had raised.

In one swift motion, I crushed Sam into my chest, my arms coming around to tightly encircle my little brother. His right hand tugged on the amulet around my neck, and I felt my protectiveness flare.

"Sammy," his breath hitched as he tensed in anticipation of my next words, "what dad said isn't true. You know that right? Man, you were just an infant when she died. It was in no way your fault."

My little brother trembled in my arms. I impossibly tightened my hold on him.

"But dad said-"

I sighed. "Dude, you know how dad gets around his time of year. That last hunt was a complete bust, and coupled with the anniversary of mom's death… You did nothing wrong, ok? It's not you, it's dad."

Sam was silent, seeming content to stay in my arms for a little while longer as he contemplated my words. After a few seconds, he pulled away, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry Dean, I know how much you hate chick-flick moments," Sam sniffled again, then looked up at me through the residual tears in his eyes.

I sighed, feigning exasperation. "Not the first time you've dragged me into one of those, and sure as hell won't be the last time," I smiled and squeezed his shoulder, clearly communicating that I was joking. That I didn't begrudge him for anything. That I would do anything for him, even if that is going against Dad. That I loved him more than anything else in the world, and that is one fact that will never change.

I knew that Sam's adolescence would be rocky, but nothing had prepared me for the emotional roller coaster that he became. Contemplative, analytical- that was my big-brained little brother. I knew that Sam wanted an escape from this life and would stop at nothing to get it. I also knew that neither dad nor I could prevent such a thing from happening.

I had raised Sam since the night he lost both his mother and father. I had sacrificed my childhood, my innocence, and everything in between for the brown-haired, double dimpled little boy who looked up at me like I was his entire world. I had done a damn fine job of it too. Sam had grown up wonderfully, and I was so proud of the person he had become.

All of these things that I could never bring myself to say out loud, I tried to communicate through my actions.

If the megawatt smile he beamed my direction was any indication, Sam got the message just fine.


End file.
